


Two Hundred and Nine Days

by Lumielles



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Angst, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Feels, Gen, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Pregnancy, and still sad about traitor boyfriend, gotta find Dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 15:36:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13661997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumielles/pseuds/Lumielles
Summary: Aramys' mother tries to connect but brings up a sore subject.Part One of my "Finding Idan" arc.





	Two Hundred and Nine Days

            Laying in the midday sun in a patch of grass by her ship, Aramys didn’t exactly appear open to any kind of conversation.  She was sprawled out like a napping housecat, her white camisole pulled up to expose her pregnant belly to the sun.  Sleep had become a rare commodity as of late, and it was leaving her completely drained by lunchtime.  It was times like this that she tried to escape, desperate for all her worries to wash away and allow her a moment’s rest. 

            Aramys took a deep breath as she felt her mother approach.  Ever since she was a little girl, she’d been sensitive to her mother’s presence.  Though as a child, just being in the same room as Petra was overwhelming.  Since their reunion on Ziost, and their second reunion on Asylum, Aramys had found her unusually tolerable.  It was the shadow she was casting that currently annoyed her.

            “You don’t make a very good window,” Aramys said, keeping her eyes closed.  

            “May I join you?” her mother asked.  Her voice wasn’t as taut and monotone as Aramys remembered it being as a child.  With her eyes closed, Aramys could even consider it soothing.

            “If you must,” Aramys sighed, draping her arm over her eyes.

            The grass beside her was cool as Petra lowered herself onto it.  She sat beside her daughter, watching her with a warm expression.  She’d been pushed away since Theron left.  Aramys had distanced herself from everyone except Lana, clinging onto her friend as if her continued sanity rested in her hands.  Selfishly, Petra had hoped that the betrayal could provide her an opportunity to get closer to her daughter, to comfort her and help her through it.  But Aramys seemed to have lost any desire to try and ever be in the same room as her.  Even residing on base, she hadn’t seen Aramys in over six weeks.

            Pregnancy hadn’t been kind to her, Petra noted.  Patches of heavy breakouts lined her jawline, and her unscarred cheek was flush with a pink rash.  Stretch marks marred her skin, making her stomach look more like the pelt of a nexu.

            “I should have warned you,” Petra said, pulling at a blade of grass.

            “Of what?”

            “The breakouts and stretch marks—” Petra paused, “I got those too.”

            Aramys snorted, opening one eye to peek at her mother.  “You mean you didn’t glow like the suns of Tatooine?”

            “I didn’t, and I don’t appreciate the sarcasm,” Petra fought a smile.  “I was almost too embarrassed to let your father even see me.”

            “But being paraded around like a prized pet was perfectly fine.”

            “I had so much makeup on my face, it almost resembled plaster,” Petra said, her tone bright.  Aramys made it near impossible sometimes to avoid arguments.  Petra persevered, forcing a chuckle when she could, hoping that Aramys wouldn’t feel defensive.

            The conversation died abruptly when Aramys didn’t respond.  Petra’s mouth twitched as she tried to decide to bring up a certain topic of conversation.  They hadn’t talked since her trip to Copero.  Actually, they hadn’t spoken much at all since Aramys rescued her from Ziost, before she was trapped in carbonite for five years.  Five years Petra spent absolutely frantic.  It had taken twenty-one years for her maternal instinct to kick in.  Figured that the moment it did, her daughter was rumored to be dead.  She had looked for anything she could to imply that Aramys was still alive, that was how she found Lana, or rather Lana had found her.

            “Darling,” Petra said.  Hopefully, Aramys hadn’t fallen asleep.

            “You know, I really didn’t come out here to have a conversation with you,” Aramys grumbled, groaning as she lifted herself into a sitting position.  She pulled her camisole back over her belly.  The hair she had pinned back was falling back into her eyes.

            “I’m sorry,”

            “You’ve got my attention now, what is it?”

            “It’s about your father— “

            “Ugh…”

            “I know he’s still alive— “

            “Mother, we’ve been over this a dozen times,” Aramys sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.  Petra’s chest tightened, sometimes it was so hard to look at her without being forced to remember Idan.  “The ship he was on was destroyed.  And he was an Acolyte, the likelihood that he managed to escape in time is— “

            “I know, but you said it yourself.  You didn’t feel like he was dead, and I— “

            “I also thought I could trust Theron, so maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about!”  She slammed her hands into the grass, balling up her fists, nails digging into the cool dirt. 

            “Aramys…” Petra frowned, looking down at her daughter’s hands.  It was odd to her that Aramys hadn’t wanted to look for her father, but now it made sense.  She didn’t want to be hurt again.  Just the spark of hope that Idan could still be alive was all she really had to hold onto right now.  If the issue was pursued and they found out that he had died, just as had been reported-- It would destroy her.  Not knowing if he was alive or not was better than knowing he was dead, at least it was for her.

            “I don’t want to have this conversation again,” Aramys stood, rather quickly for someone in her condition.  Barefoot, Aramys started back toward the base.  Petra followed, grabbing her daughter’s jacket and boots before catching up to her on the catwalk.

            “I just want you to have him here when the baby— “

            “Mom, please,” Aramys spun, raising her hands in frustration, “I really can’t do this.”

            “I didn’t know what I was doing with your or your brother, but having him there made all the difference— “

            “You can’t do this, you can’t talk about him like he’s going to show up out of the blue soon.  It could take years to find any kind of answer.  You’ve been looking for six years, and you’ve found nothing.  And of course it made a difference.  He did everything.”

            Petra straightened her shoulders, looking her daughter square in the face.  Blue burned into brown, and for a moment, Aramys became the short-tempered eleven-year-old Petra remembered so well.  Her face unmarred, hair braided into a crown, a silver collar around her neck. 

            “He did,” Petra agreed, angling her jaw upward.  It seemed to surprise Aramys, her knotted brown relaxed.  She blinked at her mother, unsure of how to respond.  “If anyone is going to know how to handle this little girl,” Petra stepped closer, tucking a stray hair behind Aramys’ ear, “It’d be your father.”

            Aramys put a hand on her stomach, looking down at it.  If would make all the difference in the galaxy if her father was here.  Especially now that she no longer had Theron.  Damn it, she’d been so blind when it came to Theron.

            “He’s supposed to be here for this,” Aramys inhaled, her voice brittle.  Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill over.  “I needed him here for this…”

            Petra knew they were no longer talking about Idan.  Aramys had been so strong, taking on the galaxy and more.  Each time emerging stronger than her opponent, achieving so much so quickly.  Many held her in awe, fascinated by her performance under constant pressure.  A pressure that she’d been under since the moment Petra heard her infantile wail the day she was born.  And she was beginning to crumble beneath it.

            “I know you did,” Petra used her thumb to wipe away the first tear to fall.  The simple touch made Aramys break, her legs buckled as she plopped herself onto the catwalk, legs folded beneath her.  Petra was quick to her side, guiding Aramys’ head to her shoulder.  Large ugly tears stained the dusty pink fabric of Petra’s dress, but she thought nothing of it.

            “You’re going to be all right,” Petra assured her.  This was the kind of breakthrough Senya had spoken about when she had gone to her for advice months ago.  A show of strength to prove to Aramys that she wasn’t the mother who had let her be taken away.    

            “I want to believe you,” Aramys mumbled, turning her head.

            “What was that thing your father always said?” Petra holding her daughter close, “We might not have it all, but the important thing is that we— “

            “Are together.” Aramys finished, a sad smile pulled gently at the corners of her mouth.

            “Right,” Petra nodded, “We are together, Aramys.  I’m not leaving you again.”

            Aramys’ smile faded as she sat up and looked at her mother.  She wanted to believe that too.  It wasn’t the childish hope she once had; that her mother would wake up one day and be the person she wanted her to be.  On Asylum, and now here, on Odessen, Petra had actually proved that she was there.

            “Maybe I can ask Malcom about any prisoners the Republic might have taken when they attacked the Avarice,” Aramys said, referring to the ship her father had supposedly died on fifteen years ago.  Obliterated by a Republic cruiser.

            “The Supreme Commander?”

            “He is family now,” Aramys sniffed, “Probably time I tell him about his granddaughter anyway…”

            “You haven’t told him?”

            “Not… outright.  But I’m sure he’s figured it out.”

            “Probably best, then,” Petra chuckled.

            “I just wish I could—tell Theron,” Aramys took a shaky breath, hot tears drowning her eyes again. “This is so stupid, I don’t know why I’m still crying about this… It’s been two hundred and nine days…”

            “Aramys,” Petra pulled her back against her shoulder, beginning to rock back and forth.  “If you’re still counting the days, of course you’re going to cry about it.”

            “He doesn’t deserve it,” Aramys said, muffled against Petra’s shoulder.

            “No, he doesn’t,” Petra said, sighing as she rubbed Aramys’ back.

 

* * *

 

            “Shan, are you crying?”

            “What?” Theron grimaced, reaching up to his eyes.  He quickly wiped away the tears that had accumulated.  He didn’t even realize they’d been there.  There was a new hollowness in his chest, like he’d been exhausted of everything, drained and discarded.  Flashes of the meadow where Aramys’ ship sat on Odessen, the feeling of the sun on his skin.  They were meaningless, and yet he wanted nothing more than to crumble to the floor.  Which was a bad idea given his present company.

            “No, don’t be ridiculous,” Theron waved his hand dismissively.

            “Then why were you— “

            “Allergies,” Theron grumbled.

**Author's Note:**

> I really like the idea of Theron and Aramys having a force bond. I'm one of those people who doesn't believe that Theron is 100% force blind. So I managed to put that in here, in a not so subtle way.


End file.
